


The Cat's Whiskers

by AnonEhouse



Category: Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Animal Traits, Animal Transformation, Artist Steve Rogers, Cat Ears, Cat Tony, Crack Treated Seriously, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-19
Updated: 2013-09-19
Packaged: 2017-12-27 00:46:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/972327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonEhouse/pseuds/AnonEhouse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve finds a magic sketchbook, and draws a handsome catman. Tony is pleased to be brought to life, and is even more pleased with Steve, who is not only kind and handsome and sexy, but he has BACON.</p><p>What more could a cat turned mostly human (except for his lovely furry ears and long, sexy tail) want?</p><p>(Note, while Nat, Clint, Bruce and Nick appear in the fic, they're very small roles.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Cat's Whiskers

(If you are reading this on any PAY site this is a STOLEN WORK, the author has NOT Given Permission for it to be here. If you're paying to read it, you're being cheated too because you can read it on Archiveofourown for FREE.)

Sometimes Steve wanders at random, looking for old neighborhoods, places long overdue for urban renewal, pocket parks formed in tiny vacant lots by volunteer plants, shops that repair things most people just replace these days, oh, just anything that catches his eye. It's probably not really safe, but he keeps a throwaway wallet with enough money to satisfy a mugger, he thinks it's enough, and he's a big, strong, guy these days so people don't look on him as a victim. It's kinda satisfying to walk boldly past the places where he'd been bullied when he was a scrawny hot-head, overcompensating for his weakness by getting into fights he knew he wouldn't win.

And it gives him ideas for his art. He'd started out drawing shiny new products and perfectly proportioned people for ads, unblemished fruit for labels, and so on. But then he got into the slightly freaky world of off-beat comic books. His boss and coworkers were maybe a little nuts, but they had fun, and he got to draw New York and its people with all the warts on, and maybe toss in a tentacle-bearing villain or sewer monsters.

He saw light angling between two brownstones to frame a dusty shop window, picking out brightly colored objects on display. He snapped a reference photo with his cell phone and headed for the shop out of curiosity. There was a sign above the door in hand-painted and peeling gilt. It took him a moment to make out, 'Nieuw-Amsterdam Curiosa en Oudheden'. He hadn't the faintest idea what it meant, but from the jumble of unrelated items in the window, he figured it was an antique shop. He pushed open the door, accompanied by the tinkle of an old-fashioned bell on a spring set above it. He looked around through the dimness- the only light appeared to be a yellowish glow coming from an open door at the back of the shop and what made its way through the dusty window.

"Hello? Are you open?" 

A man's voice, old and wavering, replied from the back of the shop. It sounded like he was speaking German. From the tone, it seemed that he was annoyed.

"I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to disturb you." Steve turned to leave, but nearly tripped against something that creaked and moved- a sort of rocking horse made of musty-smelling leather, he realized as he reached out to catch his balance. His hand closed on something flat and wooden, which he thought was a table edge, but it turned out to be a book, not something to support his weight. He wound up on his knees on a wooden plank floor in a tumble of small items all around. "I'm so sorry!" he held onto the book as he got up. "If I've broken anything I'll pay for it." He hoped none of the crunching noises belonged to anything expensive.

"Eh, my merchandise is all the better for a few scratches, do not fear. You are a polite young man." The yellow light turned out to be a paraffin lantern held by a man whose appearance matched his voice. His accent wasn't quite German, but Steve couldn't place it. "That is rare these days." He smiled at Steve. "And so tall! You remind me of my son, may Gott rest his soul."

Steve couldn't think of anything to say to that, so he just smiled. After a moment, he realized he was still holding the book. He glanced down at it. By the lantern's light he could see that the book was the size of a scrapbook made from two large cinnamon colored boards, polished smooth and hinged in brass. When he opened it, he found blank pages in a variety of pleasing pastel shades, enhanced rather than marred by age, and of a velvety texture that promised to accept pencil or ink graciously. It didn't feel like anything he'd ever used, but he knew it would be a pleasure to draw with this. "Do you think this is made of rag paper?" he asked the shopkeeper.

"That? That is made of dreams. Are you a man of dreams?" The shopkeeper leaned close and looked up into Steve's eyes. "Yes, I see you are. That book was meant for you. You must take it!"

Well, Steve wasn't going to argue. He didn't see a price on it, but he pulled out his wallet. The old man looked frail, and he probably didn't do much business. Steve felt so pleased with the book he didn't want to spoil the luck of it by being cheap so he took out two twenties and a ten. "Is this enough for the book?"

The man took the money. "You have a good, generous heart. This is well. Enjoy your dream." And the old man tottered away into the back room, taking the light with him.

"Goodbye, sir," Steve said after a moment. He shrugged and left the shop with his book.

***

The sketchbook was too large to conveniently use while leaning against a mailbox or cafe table, besides, Steve didn't want to risk it being damaged, but his fingers practically itched to try it out, so he cut short his ramble and headed straight back to his apartment, even going past the pet shop on the corner without pausing for more than a glimpse of the kittens currently occupying the window. He was better at drawing animals than any of his co-workers- although Clint was pretty good with circus animals- and the pet shop and zoo had often given him subjects to incorporate into backgrounds, or villains. 

His apartment was small, but comfortable. He shrugged off his jacket, dropped his keys on the table, and sat down in the drawing corner he'd set up by the window that gave the best light. He washed and dried his hands before opening the sketchbook. Maybe start out with a bit of cityscape. He clicked through the recent photos on his cellphone twice before he found the snap of the antique shop. There were the buildings on either side of it, but only a hazy gray rectangle where the shop should be. "Huh. Hope it's not busted." He peered at the cellphone, but taking out the batteries and putting in new ones exhausted his tech-skills. He took another photo, leaning out the window, and it came out ok. Maybe it had just been too dark. He shrugged and picked up a nice medium-soft pencil and began lazy looping circles just above the paper going lower until it touched and a pleasing s-curve appeared. 

Good shape for a backbone, he decided. He added two strokes on either side, wide enough for a chest, and tapering down to a slender waist. A man, yes, give him strong shoulders, but no need to exaggerate, this was just for him, not one of Mr. Fury's 'brick shithouses' (Fury had a vulgar mouth, but a good heart, Steve was sure. He paid on time and didn't insist on 'fridging' women - of course, Natasha wouldn't have put up with that, and Clint would have gone with her. Fury knew how far he could push.). He gave the torso only a little twist, enough so the man could give a sideways glance out at Steve, while still showing off his ass. Steve liked a man with a nice ass and this one was coming along beautifully until the pencil skipped and made an upcurve that had no place on a human body.

He scowled at the errant line. He could use the Artgum and erase it, but he hated spoiling the finish of the paper. It never looked quite the same... well...hey, that curve could be the start of a cat's tail. Why not? The man's pose was a bit like a cat's, balanced as if tensed to leap. It would fit well on the paper, drawing the eye to the rounds of the rump. The more he drew, the lighter his heart felt. He loved it when a drawing just flowed, each line and shade directing him to the next, so he saw what it should be, what was right. The tail was a dark fluffy question mark, a come-hither that Steve reinforced with the man's sly smile and sharply defined beard, cut cat-neat and cat-wicked to define the jaw and mouth. Dark ruffled hair to match the tail... large furry feline ears tilted rakishly... compact body... sharpen the musculature a little more, cats are natural athletes, sleek, not bulgy. Shadows and lights, bring out the form, a tiny stroke to hint at a smirk. Feet, toes not too long, hands, fingers not too thin. Proportioned for a compact figure, solid. If Steve put himself in the drawing, he'd be a little taller and quite a bit heavier than the cat-man.

Steve set the sketchbook down and moved back to look it over. "Beautiful." Maybe later he'd draw a full frontal view. In this pose, there was the barest hint of low-hanging fruit between the thighs, enough to tempt, but not to satisfy. His fingers were stiff. He had best stop now, before he ruined it. Maybe he'd go out again, and get coffee and a bagel. He felt as if he'd earned it.

***

On the way back, Steve paused by the pet shop to watch the kittens' antics for a few minutes. One day he'd move to an apartment that allowed pets. He'd rather have a dog, though. Cats were too independent; he'd want a pet that came running to him, eager to see him at the end of day's work.

He went up the stairs to his apartment in a cheerful mood. He only used the elevator when he had a lot to carry; a bag of sesame seed bagels and a pound of fresh-ground French roast was nothing. He reached the landing and was digging in his pocket for the key when he heard a THUMP from inside. "Who's in there?" he said and tried the door- still locked, so the burglar must have come in from the fire escape. He hoped they hadn't broken the glass. "I'm calling the police!" he said, but he really wasn't. He just wanted to scare the burglar away. There was another _thump_ , softer this time, and then, even though Steve pressed his ear to the door, he didn't hear anything more. He unlocked the door and opened it cautiously, standing to one side.

Nothing happened. He peered around the sill. "Oh, hell." There wasn't anyone in sight in the small main room, but the drawing table was knocked over, and the sketchbook was gone. Fifty bucks for nothing. And he'd really liked his cat-man, and been thinking of asking Natasha to incorporate him into a story line as a minor character. He sighed, and tried to console himself with the idea that the burglar was an art-lover, and would frame the sketch and hang it up in his hideout. It wasn't much consolation. He reached inside the door, and came up with his baseball bat, just in case the burglar hadn't left. He checked the bedroom. Nothing seemed amiss there and no one was hiding in the small closet. The bathroom was clear, as was the kitchen nook. He leaned the bat against a cabinet and put down the bag of bagels and coffee on the counter before going back to his front door and closing and locking it again. "What a day." He sat on the sofa, prepared to give into the sulks for a few minutes before digging out another sketch pad and trying to recapture some of the image of the cat-man. It wouldn't be the same, but it was worth a try, once he had calmed down.

Something touched his ankle. It was soft and furry. Damn RATS! He let out a not very manly yell and stomped, not really expecting to hit it. NYC rats are fast. There was a scream and the whole couch rose up and tipped over, knocking Steve onto the floor. He jumped to his feet and... stared.

The cat-man was lying on the floor. Really. All of him. Naked and with... ears, flattened to his head, and brown eyes bright with anger. He was holding the end of his tail between his hands and rubbing it. "You STEPPED on my tail! Who DOES that? Look!" He held out the tail, which was twitching sharply. "That hurt!"

"I..." Steve opened his mouth and shut it a few times. "Is this... did Clint put you up to this?" But even as he said it, he knew it made no sense. Clint's practical jokes were legend, but this was impossible. This was the sketch, brought to life.

"I don't know any Clint." The cat-man's ears flicked and rose slightly, before flattening again. "Is he a witch? Are you my new witch?" He tilted his head and looked at Steve. His ears went all the way up. "You're big. You must eat a lot. Are you going to feed me?" He looked down at his hands and then patted his mouth. "This body is no good for mousing." His eyes went huge and tragic. "Oh, I'm starving already."

"You're not starving."

"How do you know? I could be? FEED ME!" The cat-man got up and came over to Steve and rubbed up against him. "You're mine, so you have to feed me and play with me." His tail curled around Steve's leg for a moment. "Come on, you know you want to. I'm fun! I'm pretty! Don't you like me?" The eyes went huge again and the mouth pouted. Steve was reminded of the cat from _Shrek_ , only... that Puss wore clothes. And didn't have an erection. The cat-man seemed to notice that and looked down at himself. "Oh, hey! Look at that! That's going to be fun to lick." 

Steve felt hot all over. "I'm not going to lick your dick, cat."

"Well, no, that would be weird. I'm going to lick myself, of course." He lowered his head, tongue out, and squirmed. "HEY! What kind of cheat is this? PEOPLE CAN'T LICK THEIR OWN DICKS?"

"Stop shouting!" Steve put his hand over the cat-man's mouth. "We'll get in trouble."

The cat-man's eyes went even wider. He squirmed out of Steve's grip and looked around wildly. His ears were flat again, and his tail was fluffed out like a bottle brush. "Witch finders? Are they going to burn us? They burned the old lady. She was a nice old lady. They shouldn't have burned her. Can you hide me? She hid me in the book. The book's gone. I don't want to burn!"

"No one's going to burn anyone." Steve put his arms around the cat-man and pulled him close. "Shh." The cat-man was warm, but trembling. He petted the cat-man's ears; they were silky. "I... I'll figure something out." He didn't understand what had happened, but this was the body he'd designed, and it was his responsibility to care for his creation. "Get you a hat and...maybe a cape. You'll be fine." Steve's neighborhood had a lot of unusual folks. Body modifications weren't uncommon. He even knew one guy who'd had his teeth filed down to fangs, and he wore slit-pupil contact lenses and a fake fur suit with ears and tail to look like a white tiger. He didn't have the whole outfit on when he was in public, except when there was a parade, but still...it wasn't that impossible. 

"I don't have claws and I can't even wash myself," the cat-man said sadly. "And there's no way I can fit my dick into any pussycats. And I'm starving." He leaned heavily against Steve. "I may bite you. I don't want to bite you, but I'm not happy. Just so you know. It doesn't mean I don't love you."

Steve cleared his throat. "I'll make you something to eat. What do you want?"

"Food. Food would be nice. I already love you, but I'll love you more when I'm not hungry." The cat-man pulled away from Steve and started wandering around the room. "This place is strange. You don't have dry grass on the floor, and your walls aren't made of wood. Is it because you're a witch?"

"I'm not a witch." Steve headed for the kitchen. He could see the cat-man from there. "Everyone lives like this. I think you must have been in that book for a long time." He decided to go with scrambled eggs and bacon; it was quick and hopefully would appeal to a cat as well as a man.

"Mmm... maybe. I had a nap." The cat-man was touching things with his fingertips, gingerly at first, and then batting them around until they fell.

"Stop that!"

"Make me." The cat-man wiggled his ass and jumped onto a shelf, which immediately collapsed. "I MEANT to do that," he said, but he looked embarrassed.

"You're a bad cat!" Steve couldn't believe he'd said that. It got him another dose of the woe-is-me eyes. He sighed and threw several rashers of bacon into a frypan along with two eggs. "What's your name, anyway?"

"Cat." The cat-man sat on the couch, and curled his legs up underneath his ass. "Sometimes Damn Cat."

"I can't call you that. You need another name."

"I call myself Me."

"No." 

"Well... I was the only black one in my litter, so at first the old lady called me The One Not Yellow. But that was too long to shout, so I was Tony for a while. I like Damn Cat better, it's got more dignity." He reached down to grab his dick. "Hey, this might work."

Steve closed his eyes for moment. "Tony, please do not play with your dick."

"Why not? It feels good. Don't you do it?" He looked at Steve and an odd expression went over his face. After a moment Steve deciphered it as pity. "Oh, I'm sorry. Did they knock off your nuts?"

"No! I am... I enjoy sex, all right, but people ... there's a time and place for sex, and that's not it, Tony."

"Huh." Tony shrugged. "That's weird. I mean, ok, you can't get any pussy unless she's in heat, and even then you've got to be quick or she'll rip your ears off afterward, but I don't see why you can't play with your own dick whenever you want."

Steve drew a deep breath. "Because I said so, and I'm bigger than you." The eggs and bacon were nearly done.

"Oh. Right." Tony was silent for a few seconds. "Oh, hey! I know, it's like the ritual stuff! So, we sing and dance and fuck each other up the ass? Sounds good to me!"

Steve had been trying not to think about that. Tony was so damn pretty and totally shameless. Just what Steve had dreamed. "We can't. It wouldn't be right. You... you don't understand. You can't give proper consent."

Tony's tail bristled and lashed. "Hey, you're not talking to some fluff-headed kitten. You drew me, but that just gave me a form that would let me out of the book. I do what I want! I get into trouble when I want! I love you and I want to do things with you. You're my person!" His ears drooped flat again and his tail went limp and thin. "But you don't want me, do you?"

"Tony.... oh, damn." Steve turned the fire off under the frypan. "Look, I made you some food."

"Not hungry. Give it to a dog." Tony curled up on his side and put his arms over his head. "You don't love me. I will never eat again."

Steve put the bacon and eggs on a plate and stuck a fork in it. He went over to the couch and sat down next to Tony. "It's good." He took a bite and chewed slowly. "It's very good." He petted Tony's ears.

"Do you love me?" Tony said it softly and then raised his head to look at Steve.

Steve looked down into Tony's eyes. "Yeah."

"Do you want to fuck me?"

Steve swallowed hard. His trousers were uncomfortably tight. "Yeah."

Tony grinned brightly and sat up. "Oh, look over there!" He pointed past Steve's shoulder. Steve turned his head, and Tony stole a strip of bacon. He chewed it noisily. "Do we have to sing and dance? I only know cat-songs and dances."

"It's probably better if we don't." Steve smiled and stroked Tony's hair. "You don't want people throwing shoes at us."

"Shoes? They throw shoes now? It used to be rocks." Tony somehow oozed closer and the bacon disappeared. "Mmm, bacon. Thanks, man."

"Steve. My name is Steve Rogers."

Tony rolled onto his back, with his head in Steve's lap. Steve barely got the plate of eggs out of the way in time. "Why do you get two names, and I only have one? I want to be Damn Tony."

Steve laughed and petted Tony's ears. "You probably will be. But I want to be the only one calling you that. We'll think of a good last name for you, Tony."

"Tony Rogers. That's good. RRRR, yeah, that works." Tony wriggled around. "Rub the other spot. No. No. YES! Mmmmmmmmm."

"You need your own name, Tony." Steve gave in to impulse and pulled Tony up to kiss him. Tony looked puzzled for a moment, but then apparently decided he liked kissing and went at it with all the enthusiasm he had for bacon. Then he nipped lightly at the corner of Steve's mouth.

"Give me a good name, Steeeeve. Give it to me, now. I want it." Tony put his hands on Steve's chest, and discovered buttons. "Oh. I can do this!" He started opening Steve's shirt. Not all the buttons survived the process, but since Tony stuck his head in and licked as he went, Steve didn't care how many buttons went flying. "You taste so good. Salt. I like salt." He yanked the shirt down further. "Oh! Tits! I remember tits." Tony fastened his mouth on Steve's left nipple, and licked and sucked, while kneading Steve's abdomen with his hands. 

This was all going a lot faster, and a lot stranger, than any sexual experience Steve had ever had. He ran his hands down Tony's body, not really trying to slow him down, but just wanting to get into the action, not just lie there and be a toy. He stroked Tony's cock and was exceedingly glad he'd not made the drawing catlike there. Tony was very warm and very firm which reminded him of one of the names in the office baby books (it's not easy coming up with names for villains- heroes can have common names, but villains are better named something unlikely to be a reader's name). "Hey, Tony? Stark. Do you like the name Stark? It means firm...erm... resolute. You know, strong."

"Huh." Tony paused and sat back, straddling Steve's hips. "Ok. It'll do." He wiggled and made a happy humming noise. "Got any witches' ointment? You know, for ass-fucking?" He grinned at Steve. "I haven't had sex in forever! I want it now. Now. NOOOW."

"We call it lube." Steve sat up and pulled Tony up with him. Obligingly, Tony wrapped his arms and legs around and hung on, with his chin digging into Steve's shoulder. 

"Where are we going? Somewhere fun?"

"Into my bedroom. It's where I keep the lube, and it's where I like to have sex." Steve figured he'd better try to set rules from the beginning. "Most people like to have sex in private, in a room where they can lock the door."

"Huh. Ok, fine. Fewer shoes? Makes sense."

Walking with an erection and a very solid cat-man dangling off him was awkward, but Steve was highly motivated.

He dumped Tony on the bed and got the lube and condoms from the nightstand. "You know, we can have sex all sorts of ways, it doesn't have to be ass-fucking." Steve didn't know what witches got up to, but it probably wasn't what Steve would call love-making. He didn't want either of them getting hurt.

"Oh? Good. Cat-sex is pretty much get in and get it and get out. And you have to fight for it." Tony got onto his hands and knees to look around the room warily, ears tilted half back. "Do I have to fight anyone for you? I can fight!" His tail lashed twice and then went still.

"No, Tony, people don't fight to get sex. It's..." He ran a hand through his hair. "It's complicated, and if you get it wrong, they'll get mad at you. So please, don't ask anyone else for sex."

"Got it." Tony lay back on the bed. "Soft. This is nice. Mine." Tony stretched an arm out to grab Steve's hand and pull it to his chin. He rubbed his jaw against Steve's hand. The beard was surprisingly silky. Steve wondered if it was like a cat's whiskers, and the growth naturally stopped at that length. "Mine," he repeated. His eyes half-closed and he hummed. "Nice." His eyes opened wide again. "Sex now."

Steve grinned and tossed the supplies onto the bed. "I want to lick your dick while you lick mine."

Tony blinked. "Oh, yes! Let's try that."

"Remember, Tony, no biting!" Steve said as he turned around and got them arranged conveniently. Tony only hummed, because he was already busy licking. He obviously had no idea about sucking, but he was very good with his tongue. Steve was a fantastic cock-sucker, and decided to impress Tony with his skill. Tony's dick was the perfect size, maybe even though he hadn't drawn it, he'd dreamed it. He wondered for a moment if the sketchbook had gone back to the shop; if someone else would bring their dreams to life. It was just a random, fleeting thought as he took Tony into his mouth, pressing his tongue against the vein on the underside before he swooped down to swallow Tony whole.

"Yeeeeow!" Tony stopped licking and bucked up, clawing at Steve's ass with both hands. A moment later he scrambled out from under Steve and jumped onto the dresser, wild-eyed and ears flat.

"What?" Steve turned to face Tony, two parts annoyed to one part startled. He was hard, so hard, and the surge of adrenalin hadn't reduced his erection in the slightest.

Tony's ears came up. "Sorry, sorry. I forgot you weren't going to attack me once I'd come." He tilted his head. "That was weird. I could get used to it, though. It was nice. Are you mad at me?"

"Well, I'm not exactly happy with you right now," Steve admitted, scowling. He got the pitiful anime eyes again, and sighed. "I can't stay mad at you. Come here."

Tony bounced off the dresser and cuddled up next to Steve. "I might bite you. I thought I wouldn't, but maybe I would." He wriggled against Steve. "Maybe ass-fucking would be safer, until I get used to being not-a-cat. You could hold me down and that way I couldn't get it wrong." 

Steve peeled Tony off of him and pressed him back to lie in the rumpled sheets. Bright brown eyes looked up at him fearlessly. Steve never wanted Tony to learn to be afraid of him. "I've got a better idea. You can be on top and ride my dick."

Tony blinked. "Ok. Show me how?"

"We start by preparing you. Pull your legs up." 

"Ok." Tony obeyed. He was ridiculously flexible. He wiggled his butt, lashed his tail once, and then it went off to one side, rigidly held out of the way. "No songs? I know some very dirty ones about the devil."

"No songs," Steve said firmly. He scooped up a generous amount of lube and rubbed it around Tony's hole. "First I put fingers in you, to loosen the muscles. Relax."

"Mmmmm," Tony hummed. He closed his eyes and stretched. His tail thumped once against the bed. "Nice fingers. Pet me. Pet me there."

One finger. More slick. Two fingers. Steve wasn't rushing, even though he wanted desperately to be inside of Tony, but for a virgin Tony responded very quickly. He glanced up as Tony's humming continued, but softer. He stopped with three fingers knuckle deep inside yielding warmth. "Are you falling _asleep_?" 

Tony's eyes slit open. "Mmmm? 's nice. You said to relax."

"But not to fall asleep!" Steve slapped Tony lightly on the thigh. "Ok, I think you're ready. Wait right there!" Steve got a condom and eased it onto himself. He took a deep, steadying breath, and then stroked more lube on. Tony watched curiously. "Right." Steve lay down next to Tony and gripped himself, holding his twitching cock still. "You..." He was interrupted by Tony bouncing up and straddling him, rocking his ass against Steve's dick.

"Yes? Now? Now?" Tony didn't wait for an answer before reaching beneath to guide the tip of Steve's cock inside. "Huh. Feels like taking a backwards poop. Funny."

Steve grabbed Tony's arms. "Take it slow. Don't hurt yourself."

Tony grinned, showing a full set of very white teeth. "Pssst. Slow is for turtles. First you run!" He wiggled once more and then slid all the way down on Steve's dick. "Oh," he said softly. Steve's vision whited out for an instant and it was all he could do not to thrust up into that amazing, wonderful tightness.

"Tony!" Steve moved his hands to stroke Tony's thighs. The muscle was hard and tense. "Does it hurt?"

"Noooo." Tony breathed deeply and then started moving in slow rocking motions. His tail waved and swept over Steve's legs in a silken caress. "It's good. It's really good." He made a soft growling moan without slowing. "Stolen cream warm from the cow, good. Sunshine on my back, good. Better. So good." He leaned down for a moment to kiss Steve. He still tasted like bacon. "So good. My Steeeve."

Steve moaned. This was like a dream, the best wet dream ever. Tony arched above him, ears twitching and head flung back to expose a remarkably smooth throat, and he hummed, deep-throated, resonant wordless sounds of pleasure as he worked Steve's cock hard. Tony's tail kept moving, too, in an unexpectedly erotic counterpoint touching him in random butterfly soft sweeps from his feet to his chest. "Oh, Tony." It was too much and he loved it. Tony pulled up and nearly off. Steve grabbed Tony's hips and pulled him down hard. Tony hissed and then leaned down to bite Steve's shoulder. Steve yelped at the sudden stimulation and came hard.

Tony sighed and lay down on top of Steve. He licked the sore spot on Steve's shoulder, which hadn't _quite_ bitten to live meat, and then he turned his head to rest against Steve's chest and apparently fell asleep, although his tail gave a few thumps before stilling. 

Steve considered getting up and getting them washed. But it seemed like too much trouble. And Tony was a lovely warm weight that somehow managed to be distributed over places that didn't mind the pressure. He locked his arms around Tony's waist and dozed off.

***

Steve woke up feeling really relaxed, dazed and content with life, the universe, and everything. He stretched and looked at his clock. He had plenty of time to get ready for work. He closed his eyes, but then opened them again. He sniffed. He smelled bacon?

Wait. Where was Tony? 

Steve pushed the sheets aside and leaped out of bed. There was a used condom clinging to his leg. He brushed it off with a grimace and ran out into the main room. "TONY!"

"Mmmm?" Tony was sitting on the couch, eating from a plate of bacon. His hair was wet and the couch was soggy where he was sitting. He was still naked. "STEEVE!" He grinned and continued eating bacon. His tail flicked behind him in jittery fits. "You need to get more bacon."

Steve stared at him for a moment. "You cooked?"

Tony shrugged. "Eggs didn't work. But bacon was easy. And coffeee!" His grin was a little manic, now that Steve looked closer. "Cofffeeee. Oh, you need more cream. And sugar." Tony held up a cup of pale tan substance that might once have been coffee before it was drowned in cream. "Do you always sleep so late? The sun's been up for hours."

Steve blinked. "How did you... you showered?" He hadn't thought about it, but Tony was a cat, he shouldn't like water, should he? He also shouldn't know how to cook. But then, he shouldn't know how to talk. Steve decided to shelve it all under 'magic sketchbook' and forget about it.

"I was dirty and this tongue is no good for washing. It was nice, once I got it hot enough. Oh. You need more hot water." Tony got up and came over to Steve to give him a bacon and coffee flavored kiss. "And I guess I need clothes. I went out in the hallway because I thought I heard a mouse and a man yelled at me. I told him I was yours, but he said that was no excuse for going around naked, there are women and children in the building." Tony gave Steve another kiss. "I put on a robe, but it made wrinkles in my ass when I sat down, see?" Tony turned around to display his ass.

"You're supposed to wear underpants," Steve said, helplessly failing to control the impulse to laugh. Even if Tony got him kicked out of his apartment, he was just ridiculously happy. "Come on, I'll find you some clothes, and then I need to get ready for work."

"Work?" 

"Yeah. I have to go out and earn the money to pay for this place, and for bacon and coffee."

"Ok. I'll work, too," Tony said decisively. "What do we do?"

"Tony... it's not that easy. You don't have any job skills..." Tony made a pffft noise at that. "I know you're smart, but even if you can do things, you need proof to show people." Steve hadn't thought about that. "You don't have any ID, or a social security number, or school records, or..." Steve's heart clenched. They could declare Tony an illegal alien, and take him away, maybe even experiment on him.

Tony rubbed Steve's back. "Don't worry. I always land on my feet. So, what do we do?"

"I draw, Tony. I work for an independent comic book company. Can you draw?"

"I don't know. I've never tried." Tony gave Steve another kiss. "Let's go to work and find out!"

"It's a bad idea." But then... the thought of leaving Tony alone all day was an even worse one. He looked around the apartment at the broken shelf and the books tumbled on the floor and... the dead rat laid neatly in the center of the throw rug. "Fine. We'll go to work."

***

Tony had stayed close to Steve once they left the apartment. He stayed _really_ close, grabbing Steve's hand and holding onto it. "There are a lot of people," he whispered, which made Steve remember that where ever, whenever, Tony had begun life, it probably had been the equivalent of a village and while he took technology in his stride, crowds were apparently frightening. It didn't help that Tony was wearing flip-flops (the only shoes Steve had that didn't fall completely off his feet- a bit of work with an Exacto knife had pared them down), sweatpants rolled up at the cuff and an oversized, ratty, hoodie to hide his ears, with his tail tucked up and tied inside the back of the hoodie to make a weird lump, like a displaced roll of fat. There were odder looking people getting on the subway, but he still got more than a few side-eye glances.

"Don't get lost," Steve said. Once they boarded the train, Tony clung to one of the poles, with Steve standing behind him, putting his arms around to give Tony a little security. 

Tony relaxed a little once they got to Shield Comix (third floor on an old brick building that also housed resellers of cheap novelty items and some businesses that didn't have any names on the doors). They were next to the El, and the windows were covered in a layer of perpetual grime, and sometimes you had to raise your voice to be heard when a train rattled by, but the A/C worked and there was a good deli only a few blocks away.

"Hey, who's the boyfriend?" Clint called the moment they walked through the door.

Tony seemed pleased. "Tony Stark. Steve made me last night. Is there coffee?" He wandered off in the direction of the break room.

Steve looked at Clint. "Tony's not from around here."

"I figured. Where did you pick him up?"

"Around," Steve said vaguely. He wanted to go to Tony to make sure he wasn't getting into trouble, but he didn't want to look... _clingy_. Clint would never let him live it down. "We hit it off."

"Yeah. I'd say so." Clint pointed to Steve's neck. Steve flushed when he remembered Tony biting him. He should have worn a high-necked shirt. "So, he's an animal in the sack?" Steve felt like his skin was burning from embarrassment, but he was saved from replying by Tony's yowl. It sounded like real fear. 

Steve pushed past Clint and ran into the break room. Natasha was standing there, with a blank look on her face, holding a piece of cloth in one hand and a bedraggled doughnut in the other. Tony was on top of the counter, coffee maker and boxes of doughnuts knocked over, trodden on and spilling onto the floor. The hoodie was ripped with his ears sticking out flat out to the sides and he was pressed up against the wall. He opened his mouth and hissed.

"What?" Steve asked even as he moved forward to get between Tony and Natasha.

"I was good, Steve!" Tony protested. "I just said she was a pretty pussy!"

Natasha's eyes went from Tony's ears to Steve's hickey. She handed Steve the piece of cloth and left the room wordlessly, brushing past Clint. 

Tony jumped down and pressed against Steve who stroked his hair and spoke softly to him. 

Clint just stared open-mouthed for a while. "Oh, man, Fury's gonna plotz." He grinned and ducked back when Steve made a half-hearted swing at him.

"Shh, Tony, it's all right."

Bruce wandered into the room next, drawn by the commotion. "Shit, and I thought I made messes when I got angry." He peered at Tony, took off his glasses, wiped them and put them back. "Huh." He walked past Steve to put the coffeemaker upright again, and rummage in the fridge for a Danactive. He drank it and disposed of the bottle in the recycle bin, before patting Tony on the back. "Nice ears. I'll have to show you my tats sometime." He wandered back into the main room.

Clint popped his head back into the room. "Tasha ratted you out to Fury. You gotta go talk to the boss."

It took a few more minutes to calm Tony enough that they could leave the room.

 

"Mr. Fury, sir, you sent for me?" Steve put his shoulders back as he marched into the cubby that served as Fury's office. He could take it like a man. Tony was pressed up against his back, which probably spoiled the effect.

"Ms. Romanov informs me that you've brought one of your models to work." Fury glanced up from a scribbled sheet of the kind of paper that Natasha used for script drafts. "She seems to think he'd be too disruptive in the office environment, however."

"I... Sir, Tony isn't from around here. He didn't mean to insult Ms. Romanov."

Fury rolled his eye (he'd lost one due to an unfortunate incident with a faulty binding machine). "Yeah, I get that. You'd have to be a total moron to deliberately piss off Romanov." Fury rose to his feet and came over to look at Tony. "Hey, you know, he's not got a bad face. And the ears... yeah. That's state of the art body-mod. Got anything else?"

Tony perked up. He flipped up the hoodie and pulled down his sweatpants. He bounced around to put his backside in Fury's face.

"JESUS, son, this isn't that kind of... oh..." Fury looked at Tony's tail. He touched it. It twitched.

Tony wiggled some more. "I need a job. To pay for coffee and bacon. But I need papers. And... numbers? Social Security... I like the number FIVE? Can I have it?" He turned to face Fury again. His ears were up and he was in full Puss Pleading mode.

Steve really wanted to crawl under a rock and hide.

Fury stared at Tony without changing expression for a long, long handful of seconds. Then he nodded. "I've got connections. I can get you clean papers. I think Natasha's right though. You wouldn't fit in here."

Tony's eyes managed a new level of pitiful.

Fury smiled slightly. "Can you dance? My friend Thor runs an exotic strip joint."

"Can I dance? YEESS!" Tony turned to Steve and kissed him exuberantly. 

"Thank you, Sir!" Steve said. 

"Eh, fine." Fury was already back to studying Natasha's script. "Catman? No, that's been done. Feline-maniac? No, too stupid... Catmandu? Oh, hell, no one will get that..." He waved a hand at the door. "Clean up the break room. Bring me some concept sketches. Without dick. G'wan, beat it."

"Yes, sir!" Steve yanked Tony's sweatpants back up and dragged him out of the room.

***

The next day, Steve found his desk covered in catnip mice. Tony loved them.

**Author's Note:**

> (Based on this prompt)  
> Steve/Tony, Cat-ears-and-tail!Tony, NC-17 http://avengerkink.livejournal.com/17385.html?thread=38525673#t38525673
> 
> Let's just marvel at this beautiful picture:  
> http://tgoamt.tumblr.com/post/58494234914/steve-tony 
> 
> AU, where Steve is an artist. In the first page of this weird sketchbook he finds at a local thrift shop, he draws a sexy!Tony with cat ears and a tail. Now it's just a random sketch, a character he made himself, so he's never met anyone like him. Some how his art comes to life and he meets Tony for the first time. Sexy times must happen! Needs to be Top!Steve and Bottom!Tony... please.
> 
> Bonus: If Tony didn't know his name, just where he came from. 
> 
> Bonus X 100: If Tony lived back in the day and was like, cursed by a witch to reside forever in the sketchbook, and didn't come out till he was drawn by Steve, so he's really surprised by the tail and ears.
> 
> Bonus X 1,000: If Tony is just his usual self, flirtatious and likes to walk around Steve's apartment nekkids to try and get Steve to jump his bones. 
> 
> Just for the lulz: Steve draws nsfw art of Tony at work and gets harangued by Boss!Natasha and made fun of by FellowArtist!Clint.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Кошачьи усы](https://archiveofourown.org/works/1338763) by [opium_smoker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/opium_smoker/pseuds/opium_smoker), [raveness](https://archiveofourown.org/users/raveness/pseuds/raveness)
  * [[Podfic] The Cat's Whiskers](https://archiveofourown.org/works/8436709) by [RsCreighton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RsCreighton/pseuds/RsCreighton), [SomethingIncorporeal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SomethingIncorporeal/pseuds/SomethingIncorporeal)




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